


Make me

by Dansnotavampire



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: But anyway enjoy the porn guys, Fluff and Smut, I love him, Jacobu wears makeup but hes a trash man so he doesnt bother taking it off, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex, Trans Daniel Jacobi, dialogue prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:13:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dansnotavampire/pseuds/Dansnotavampire
Summary: Written for the dialogue prompt "make me" from Nancy thanks babe





	Make me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nancypants (cah_avengers)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cah_avengers/gifts).



> Written for the dialogue prompt "make me" from Nancy thanks babe

Daniel's doing his makeup when you walk into his room. His eyes are dark and smoky, with sharp black wings. Golden lustre shines across his cheekbones, and you can just see the traces of his freckles across the bridge of his nose. He looks... pretty. 

You know that he's noticed you by now; the two of you hold eye contact through the mirror as he bends to pick up his lipstick where it's rolled to on the floor, the curve of his bicep stretching the net of his sleeves. You watch intently as he slides it across his lips, draws on a perfect cupids bow, all crisp edges and sharp corners, the bright red standing out beautifully against the warm brown of his skin. He stands up, and turns around to face you. You allow your eyes to drag over his body, trace the curves of his waist, his thighs, his calves. The golden accents of his bracelets, his necklace, even his _belt buckle_ all add up, make him look royal, almost fae-like. 

You take a step over to him, take his jaw in your hand, your thumb resting on his plump bottom lip. 

"Going somewhere, Mr. Jacobi?" 

He tilts his head up, looks you in the eye. Your thumb slips off of his lip, fall onto his chin, dragging some of the pigment from his lips with it. "I was considering it, Sir. Why?" 

"Well," you say, dragging the word out, "I was just wondering," you move your hand from his face, tuck your thumbs through his belt loops, pull his hips flush to yours, "if I could convince you to stay." 

This song and dance, this slow, seductive pattern, is so familiar to you now. There's no surprise when his hands go to your waist, when his lips drag along your neck, up your jawline, when he whispers in your ear, "You could make me." 

You smile, and pick him up by his thighs, carrying him over to the bed. You drop him, roughly, onto the mattress, straddle his hips. You feel him shift underneath you as he pushes his heels off, and you slide your hands up under the tight, golden material of his top, then pull it off over his head. You run a trail of blazing kisses along his collarbone, down his sternum, run your tongue across one of the scars on his chest. A low, breathy moan escapes his lips as you ghost your hands back down his sides, before you sit up completely, your knees at Jacobi's sides supporting your weight, and strip your shirt off. Jacobi's hands move from where they were scrunched in the bedsheets to glide, almost reverently, down your sides. 

"Fucking hell, Warren," he says, his voice a throaty whisper, "You're _gorgeous._ " 

You push up on your thighs a little further, so the only parts of you that are touching are your knees squeezing his hips, and his hands against your waist. He keens at the loss of contact, his head tilting back, exposing the long line of his throat, still unmarked by you. The skin across his chest is lightly flushed with a combination of exertion and arousal, a layer of sweat glistening upon it. He's beautiful. 

You tell him so, not in words, but in a dark bruise bitten into the soft skin of his throat, in a heady kiss pressed to his lips, leaving the red pigment there smudged, his hair mussed, his eyes half-closed in pleasure, utterly debauched. You pull back from the kiss to admire your work, and to admire the man in front of you. Then you kiss him again, this time just because you can. He pushes up to follow your mouth as you pull away, but you push his chest, lightly, and he falls back down. 

"Patience, Daniel," you chastise, but there's a seductive smirk written across your face, and you move so that you're knelt between his legs. 

"I've been patient, _Warren,_ " he snaps back, his breath hitching when you bend over to nip at his hipbone, "fucking _touch me._ " 

"Well, since you asked _so_ nicely," you say, "I guess I can." You shift a little on your knees, and bend slightly to undo Jacobi's jeans, your hot breath passing over his skin. You consider forcing him to wait even longer, stripping him of his remaining clothes as slow as you can, but you're just as impatient as Jacobi; you want him just as much as he wants you (though you're certainly better at hiding it.) You tug his jeans halfway down his thighs, then stand to pull your trousers off while he shimmies out of his, still on the bed. You kneel back between his legs, and bite a kiss into the soft flesh just above the waistband of his boxers, before you tuck your thumbs into the waistband and pull them down and off. You lick a firm stroke up his cunt, grab his hips and pull him closer to your mouth. 

He gasps when you lick further up, and his hips twitch when you flick your tongue over his dick. He's so _responsive_ , your every touch pulling breathy moans and whines from his lips, stuttered half-sentences all he can form. 

You bite down on the soft flesh of his inner thigh, then soothe the red mark with your tongue. His hips buck, and you move back to his dick, your lips clamping round it and sucking in a way that you know gets him dripping. His hands go to your hair, the tightness of his grip a mix of pleasure

and pain that sends a thrill through your body. You take a breath, and suck on two of your fingers before parting his folds and thrusting them deep into him, your lips returning to his dick. You get him to the point where his thighs are tensing and trembling, and he's moaning your name in between broken-off gasps. He's impossibly, painfully close, mere breaths from coming over your fingers and tongue, and it would be so easy to just carry on, to take your pleasure from his gasps and moans, and later from his mouth, but... 

But you're an awful, sadistic person, so you pull away from him completely, and stand up. 

He whines, then grabs a pillow from next to himself and chucks it at your head. "Warren, if you don't get back here and finish what you started-" 

You laugh. "Patience, Mr. Jacobi," you say, but you're stripping out of your jeans and boxers, and rolling on a condom as fast as you can. 

You go back to the bed as he starts to say "I told you, Warren, I'm not-" but he cuts himself off with a harsh gasp when you press yourself into him. 

You let out a throaty moan yourself, the shock of having Daniel for the first time in what might be _months_ running through you like electricity. You pull out almost all the way and then push back in, relish in the short, high moans that drip from his lips. You up your pace after a few minutes of this, watch the flush over his face and the top of his chest travel all over his torso, and nip at his collarbone. 

He comes with a moan that's practically a scream, and that Maxwell will _definitely_ have heard from the next room over, and you follow him moments later. You lave your tongue over the red mark you just left on his collarbone, and pull out. 

You pull the condom off and tie it, before chucking it into the bin and relaxing back into the bed. 

"We should shower," Jacobi says, but makes no signs of moving. 

You sling an arm over his waist, and say "We probably need to get dressed." 

"I should take my makeup off." 

It's smudged, his sharp wings streaked black under his eyes, his lipstick blurred out of its earlier crisp lines. His foundation has streaks from sweat running through it, and his hair is a mess. He looks utterly debauched. 

"Nah, leave it till morning," you say, and he hums in agreement, before turning his head into your chest and settling down to sleep. You tug the covers over the two of your naked forms, and close your eyes as well. 

You'll have eyeliner smeared on your chest when you wake up, probably, but you can't bring yourself to care.


End file.
